


Art is Long & Life is Short

by am_i_write



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, Haikyuu!! Big Bang 2017, Hqbb, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, M/M, Mental Illness, Mostly Fluff, Multi, Pretty Light-Hearted, art therapy, nothing too sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 04:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/am_i_write/pseuds/am_i_write
Summary: After watching one of their friends struggle with mental illness, Akaashi and Sugawara work to provide affordable therapy options. Akaashi runs free art therapy sessions on Wednesdays and Saturdays.Bokuto can't help but fall for the cute but mysterious instructor, Kuroo's thoughts keep straying to the adorable boy he ran into when he came to pick Bokuto up, and Asahi's feelings for the fitness-junkie that keeps showing up are starting to make him nervous.





	Art is Long & Life is Short

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for the Haikyuu!! Big Bang 2017 (find out more on Tumblr @ hqbb). Special thanks to my amazing beta (found on Tumblr @ coffeetyphoon)–you're amazing! 
> 
> While this fic is mostly light-hearted and fluffy, I'd like to start this off with a warning that it does deal with mental illness. There is also a chapter that will mention suicide and emotionally abuse, but I will preface this chapter with another warning. Please don't read anything that could trigger you or harm you in any way. 
> 
> For everyone who reads this fic, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> •••
> 
> "Art is long, life is short." -Hippocrates

"Today's session will end in ten minutes. Please finish up what you are working on, then proceed to clean up your stations. Thank you."

Bokuto jerked his head up at that sound of the voice. Had the time gone by already? But he wasn't done! These sessions should really be more like two or three hours long. How could anybody get anything done within a mere ninety minutes? He'd have to vent to Kuroo later.

Wiggling his sticky fingers, Bokuto went to wash up before packing up. Sometimes he felt weird finger painting in a room of people using fine pencils and delicate brushes, but it felt wrong to do art with a tool. Using something else to apply the paint felt like putting a barrier between him and the art, and the only thing that sucked about finger painting was the intense scrubbing that had to happen after. Finger painting wasn't finger painting as much as a whole body experience to Bokuto, though, and even his elbows sometimes had to be washed off.

"Five minutes," said Akaashi, startling Bokuto out of his internal rant. Despite being so soft, Akaashi's voice never failed to grab attention. "Please proceed to clean up your stations. Thank you, and I look forward to seeing you all on Saturday or next Wednesday."

Five minutes? Bokuto scrubbed furiously, attempting to ignore the burn on his pink skin. Emerging from the sink room without even checking if there was paint on his face (there usually was), he scrambled to get to his station. He had to pack up on time so he wouldn't disappoint Akaashi, but more importantly he had to make sure that Akaashi didn't–

Shit.

There stood Akaashi, looking straight at Bokuto's painting. All Bokuto could see was Akaashi's back, and his perfect posture gave away nothing, but he was just sure that Akaashi was judging it. Akaashi was amazing at art, so not only would he be uncomfortable, but he'd also notice all the flaws in whatever Bokuto made.

Bokuto edged up to Akaashi from behind. "I'm sorry."

Akaashi jumped a bit at the sound of his voice, then pivoted on his heel to stare at Bokuto. His eyes were as impassive as ever, but that only worsened Bokuto’s worry. "Sorry? Whatever for, Bokuto-san?"

"For, you know," Bokuto said, gesturing vaguely at his artwork. "For painting you without your permission. I know I should have asked, but I was afraid you were going to say no!" The canvas he'd been working at held a blotchy rendition of Akaashi's face. It was anatomically questionable, but Bokuto liked to think he'd managed to somewhat capture the instructor's calm yet mysterious presence, if not his features.

Raising one eyebrow, Akaashi said, "Aside from another attendee you don't have permission from, you are free to paint whatever you like here, Bokuto-san. That includes myself. Additionally, there is no need to be afraid of me; I like to think I'm fairly reasonable."

"Oh.” Bokuto blinked in surprise. “Thanks, Akaashi!" Ever since the first session Bokuto had come to, Akaashi had been too perfect, too kind and considerate and understanding. Being around him was like walking beside the ocean; you couldn’t help but feel tranquil and relaxed, but there was something that drew you in, something that made you want to go deeper and deeper. Over the past few sessions, Bokuto had talked to Akaashi a bit more and more, and he couldn't help but want to keep talking with him forever. "I would've painted something else, but you're just so pretty! Every time I thought about making something else, I got too restless and went back to you."

Akaashi had turned a light shade of pink, and Bokuto couldn't help but cheer inwardly. Sure, lots of people got embarrassed at compliments, but surely Bokuto's words meant something to him, considering he was usually so unreadable. "That is very generous of you, Bokuto-san. I have to say, your finger painting skills aren't bad at all considering you said you haven't done art in a decade."

"Hey hey hey!" Bokuto said, a smile taking over his face. A compliment from Akaashi. "A professional thinks I have talent!" What he didn't want to tell Akaashi, though, was that he'd been practicing back at the apartment, trying to perfect his skills. The paint he bought wasn't very high quality and always stained his hands, but he'd wanted to impress Akaashi so badly. What he hadn't accounted for was the obsessive need to paint the beautiful instructor, coupled with the nagging feeling in his stomach once he arrived at the studio. When he'd talked to Kuroo about how he wanted to improve at painting in order to impress Akaashi, Kuroo had told him that he had a crush. At first, Bokuto had vehemently denied it, but now he wasn't so sure. Today, with Akaashi standing right in front of him, everything seemed all too similar to the way he'd felt around other people he'd caught feelings for. Surely his subconscious knew how out of Akaashi's league he was, though.

“These sessions aren’t about being talented, Bokuto-san, but to use art as a means for the expression and understanding of oneself,” Akaashi replied. Bokuto tried not to let himself wilt too much, since he knew the other man wasn’t trying to be cruel. Akaashi just said everything like it was.

“Yes, of course, but I think maybe these sessions have allowed me to better understand you instead,” Bokuto says, crossing his fingers behind his back. His previous attempts to flirt with the other man seemed to go unnoticed, but this time he would surely get his point across.

Akaashi just frowned. “Bokuto-san, as much as I enjoy your cheerful presence, there is no use in you attending these sessions if they are not helpful for you. Art therapy sessions aren’t useful for everyone, even for those who love art. As always, I am more than willing to connect you to professionals who can offer different sorts of assistance. I am well-acquainted with several respected therapists and would be happy to recommend you to any one of them.”

Bokuto blinked, then started waving his hands wildly. “No, no! It’s not that this isn’t helpful, it really is! I just meant that I really like spending time with you. And besides, I don’t think other therapy would really help anyway.”

The frown never left Akaashi’s face, and Bokuto was starting to regret attempting to flirt at all. He’d seemed so much happier back when Bokuto was showing off his painting and calling him pretty. Oh, if only he could go back…

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi began, “that sort of attitude towards therapy is what prevents many people from getting the help they need. It is policy to never ask the attendees why they chose to come to these meeting in order to respect their privacy and make sure everyone feels comfortable. However, please know that I am willing to listen if you ever want to talk, and everything you say would remain completely confidential.”

“Oh,” Bokuto was at a loss of what to say, wondering how he could get their friendlier banter back. “I’m just here because my buddy Kuroo recommended it to me. I have trouble concentrating and get really bad mood swings, so he thought maybe this could help me calm down.” He paused, then added, “Kuroo and I both go to the same university where we play volleyball.”

Akaashi smiled a bit at that, and Bokuto barely resisted the urge to pump his fist in the air. “Volleyball? I used to like watching it on TV, but I’ve never played myself. It is an intense game, though, so I hope you find the art soothing.”

“I do!” Bokuto insisted, feeling a grin spread across his face. “I’m really glad I decided to come, and I’m even more glad I got to meet-”

"Hey, Bokuto!" Bokuto spun around in surprise, voice cutting off mid-sentence. Kuroo was leaning against the door, smirking. "I've been standing here for five minutes, you know. What could've gotten my dear Koutarou so preoccupied that he wouldn't have noticed me, his best friend, standing here for five whole minutes?"

"Kuroo!" Kuroo merely raised a single eyebrow in reply. "Meet Akaashi, the instructor! He is very nice and beautiful."

Kuroo pushed off the wall and approached them. His grin looked downright scary as he held out a hand to Akaashi, but the instructor accepted it without hesitation. "Nice to meet you, Kuroo-san. As mentioned, I am Akaashi, the instructor for these sessions. Bokuto-san mentioned that you were the one who recommended he come here?"

"Oh, I know who you are," Kuroo said, and Bokuto felt his face heat up. "Bokuto has told me all about you. And yes, I am indeed the wonderful person who suggested that he come here."

Akaashi nodded. "How’d you hear about us? Do you know anyone else who goes here or perhaps one of my friends who helped start this up?”

"No," Kuroo said, evidently disappointed that he hadn't gotten more of a reaction out of Akaashi. _Ha!_ though Bokuto. _Kuroo can't embarrass me that easily!_ "I saw a flyer when I was at the gym here."

"Did someone say the word gym?" The three of them turned to see Nishinoya bounding into the room, Tanaka close behind.

"Yuu! Ryuu!" Bokuto cried. He loved Noya and Tanaka. They came over after their workouts each day to help clean up the studio, just out of the kindness of their hearts, though Bokuto admitted to distracting them often enough that no actual cleanup was done by any of them until long after the session had finished.

"Bokuto!" Noya said, running over. Tanaka shouted a friendly hello, then walked over to help an attendee who was struggling with folding up an easel. "I love your painting of Akaashi-san! You told me you weren't good at art, you liar!"

"Thanks! I've been practicing!" Bokuto blurted, then flushed red as Kuroo started cackling. Akaashi was never supposed to find out about the practice! "I mean, I've been practicing here. Each week. Nothing else. I don't even own paint."

"Keeping up your painting in your spare time might be useful," Akaashi commented, a mysterious glint in his eyes. "If you're having trouble concentrating on your studies, you could always take a break and paint to calm yourself down."

"Eh?" Bokuto said, then beamed. What a perfect excuse! Now he wouldn't have to try and keep his practice a secret anymore. "You're a genius, Akaashi!"

"Well, thank you, but I think you had the same idea," the instructor said, "considering that your hands were stained with paint when you came in here this morning." Bokuto's mouth dropped open, and he was pretty sure he caught a glimmer of satisfaction in Akaashi's eyes.

"Busted," Kuroo snickered. "You never were good at keeping secrets, Bo."

"Hey," Bokuto pouted. Kuroo was right, though—he always gave things away. Last Christmas, he ended up telling Kuroo he'd knitted a scarf for him for his gift. Bokuto ended up buying him a cat sweater instead, but then he’d ended up blurting that out on Christmas Eve… "I can totally keep secrets!"

"Well," Noya said, clapping Bokuto on the back. He felt himself involuntarily lurch forward a bit; the tiny man packed a big punch. "I think it's pretty awesome that you've been working at home! You're so dedicated."

"Thanks, Yuu!" Bokuto said, feeling better instantly. Bokuto absolutely adored Noya, which Kuroo said was because he fed people's egos, but he liked to think that Noya was just adept at recognizing Bokuto’s awesomeness.

Noya waved goodbye, yelling out, “Asahi-san!” He ran across the room towards the startled looking man in question, almost colliding with several easels and a couple people. Akaashi let out a sigh of exasperation, but in the past few weeks he’d become accustomed to Noya’s antics and his rather impressive ability to avoid crashing into things at the last second.

“So,” Kuroo said, leaning on Bokuto’s shoulder. “Are you two lovebirds done, or should I go wait in the car?”

“Eh?” Bokuto cried, feeling himself flush red. How dare his best friend betray him like that! He stole a glance at Akaashi, who had only raised a brow in response. “We aren’t lovebirds.”

“Right,” Kuroo replied with a wink at Akaashi, who never broke eye contact. “Well, we’ll be off then. Thanks for taking care of my boy Bokuto here.” He tugged on Bokuto’s arm, dragging him towards the door.

Bokuto shot one more glance over his shoulder at Akaashi, who met his gaze and sent him a small smile. Bokuto felt his heart skip a beat at the gentle expression on the other man’s face, and then Kuroo was dragging him out the door.

Oh man, thought Bokuto. I’m in love.

•••

Kuroo laughed, elbowing his best friend in the side as they walked out into the lobby of the rec centre. "So, instructor guy is as fine as you told me! Not my type, but still really attractive. You sure know how to pick 'em!"

"Don't say that!" Bokuto cried, tugging at his hair. Kuroo watched as he slumped against the wall, closing his eyes. "It makes him feel out of my league!"

Kuroo laughed again, pulling on the other man’s arm to make him move again. "Dude, that guy _is_ out of your league. The trick is to make him think you're out of his league."

Bokuto glanced at him. "How am I doing so far?"

"Bo, you're doin-” Kuroo cut off as he collided with someone. Though he was fine, the other person fell to the floor, and items scattered everywhere.

“Sorry, sorry!” Kuroo said, stooping down to help the person out. The man he’d collided with was rather small. His dyed hair had horrendous roots, but Kuroo couldn’t help but think he was rather cute nonetheless. His gaze darted up, and there was something sharp in his golden eyes that rendered Kuroo momentarily speechless.

“Kozume!” Bokuto cried from above them. “Are you alright?”

“I told you to just call me Kenma,” the boy muttered as he turned to look at the ground, causing his hair to cover his face. “And yes, I’m fine.”

“Wait, you and Bokuto know each other?” Kuroo asked, looking back and forth between the two. Kenma nodded without looking at him, and Kuroo noticed then that the materials the boy had dropped consisted of pencils, erasers, and a sketchbook. “Oh, you go to the sessions too?”

Kenma nodded again, sorting his pencils into a box. After realizing that was the only reply he was going to get, Kuroo went to pick up the sketchbook. It was supposed to be an act of chivalry, but he caught Kenma wincing.

“You okay?” Kuroo asked, and once again the boy nodded without looking at him. Wow, he was shy. Kuroo watched as his elegant fingers snapped the lid closed on his pencil case. He gave them each a small nod before hurrying off, leaving Kuroo to stare at the space where he’d been just seconds ago. “Who was that?”

“Kozume Kenma,” Bokuto said, staring at him. “We discussed that like thirty seconds ago. Did you forget already?”

“Not his name!” Kuroo cried, only stopping himself from chasing after the boy because he didn't want to scare him. “Why didn’t you tell me that the boy of my dreams was attending your art class?”

Bokuto blinked at him. “Him? I've tried to talk to him more than once, but all I’ve gotten is one word answers and a few complaints that I’m too loud. I didn’t know you had a thing for shy guys.”

“I do not have a thing,” Kuroo muttered, starting towards the exit of the rec centre. “I just… doesn’t he seem like the kind of person who would be super awesome once you got to know him?”

“Sure!” Bokuto agreed. “Everyone can be super awesome once you get to know them. I just have no clue how you could get to know _him_.”  
  
“Maybe I should just leave him alone,” Kuroo replied, biting his lip absentmindedly. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“Well,” said Bokuto, “you’re definitely going to see him again anyway.”

“Why’s that?” Kuroo asked, frowning in confusion until Bokuto pointed to the object that was still in his hands.

He still had Kenma’s sketchbook.

Oh.

•••

Asahi held his paintbrushes under the stream of water, gently spreading the bristles with his thumb to wash out all the paint. He liked this part of the process, though many of the others seemed to rush through it. Watching the bristles gradually become clear again was almost as soothing as making the artwork, and it was a satisfying way to end the class.

Noya was not soothing. At all. As Asahi turned off the faucet, he heard the door of the art studio slam open and the telltale yells of Nishinoya and Tanaka entering. Don’t get him wrong–he liked Noya and Tanaka a lot, and they were always very friendly. The first time he’d met them, though, he’d been a bit overwhelmed.

“Asahi-san!” He turned just in time to see Noya leap over a cart of supplies, duck under two people carrying a table, and barely swerve around the corner of an easel before skidding to a stop right in front of him. “Long time no see!”

“Right. Good to see you again, Nishinoya.” Asahi sent him a shaky smile, absentmindedly twisting the paintbrushes in his hand. “Did you have a good workout?”

“The best!” Noya yelled, making dozens of pairs of eyes from around the room latch onto them. Asahi shivered under the scrutiny, trying to focus on Noya’s bright yet gentle ones. “Let me tell you, I really felt the burn today. I’m gonna have to call in sick tomorrow ‘cause my muscles will be so sore. It’s worth it though! Here, feel,” he said, and before Asahi could react, Noya had grabbed his hand and placed it around his bicep.

He could feel all the blood rushing to his face as Noya flexed proudly. Though his hand could circle the entire thing, Noya’s bicep was still impressive. He looked rather thin, but the muscles underneath were taut and firm. “Wow, uh,” he said, trying to communicate something along the lines of, _Wow, you’re really strong and I am super impressed, but please do not notice the giant crush I have on you, oh god, please don’t,_ but failing miserably. “You’re. Um. It’s. Strong!” he blurted the last word with too much conviction, but Noya didn’t seem bothered.

“Thanks, Asahi!” he crowed, grinning brightly. “You’re pretty ripped yourself,” he added, clapping his own hand against the other man’s bicep. Asahi’s eyes widened, and he flinched back in surprise.

“Oh, sorry!” said Noya, immediately releasing him. “I should’ve asked first.” Asahi opened his mouth to apologize, but Noya had already moved on to telling him about the fact that he and Tanaka were trying out a new diet to try and gain even more muscle, and Asahi felt the tension flow out of his body. Oh. Noya hadn’t even seemed bothered by his reaction. He’d just… apologized and moved on.

Somehow, impossibly so, Asahi felt even more blood rush to his face. Oh god, Noya, he thought, rubbing at his neck. Why do you have to be so perfect? Of course, Asahi could never voice these thoughts aloud. Everyone loved Noya, and he surely already had some sort of significant other. Heck, he probably had dozens of people waiting to date him.

“Did you know that one time I watched Ryuu eat twenty-one boiled eggs for breakfast? Twenty-one! He felt so sick afterwards we that we ended up skipping our workout.” Noya laughed, and Asahi managed a weak smile in return as his stomach rolled.

His eyes wandered to Noya’s spiky hair. He wanted to run his hands through it, gently spread each strand apart like the bristles of his paint brush. He shook his head to clear the image, forcing his gaze back to Noya. “Sounds like you guys have a lot of fun.”

“We do!” Noya agreed, then winked at him. “Maybe you and I can have fun together sometime.” Asahi was positive that every drop of blood in his body was currently in his cheeks. He couldn’t even imagine how red he was, and he was shocked Noya wasn’t laughing already. But Noya’s words, though… surely he couldn’t mean that… “Hey, you okay?”

Asahi blinked rapidly. “Sorry! I mean, yeah, you’re fun. I’m sure we could have fun. Together. We’re having fun now, after all, aren’t we?”

Noya’s smile was gentler than any expression Asahi had ever seen on his face. It made him shiver. “Of course.” He reached up towards him, and Asahi froze as the smaller boy rubbed his thumb across his forehead. His fingertip was incredibly soft and gentle across his skin. “Sorry, there was a little bit of paint.”

Asahi watched Noya’s hand as it lowered–

There was no paint on his thumb.

Asahi hastily excused himself, hurrying away before he'd even finished cleaning up his supplies.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear if you have any feedback :)


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